


little sad eyes

by okoyik



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Aftercare, Group Sex, M/M, Tentacles, eddie is equally as soft but unsure how to show it, peter is baby, quentin is useless as per usual, the gangs all here!, wade is soft as hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okoyik/pseuds/okoyik
Summary: Wade carries most of their weight, Eddie tries his best, and Quentin does nothing to help. But Peter loves them all the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlimeQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/gifts).

> blame manaal for this we're horny clowns 
> 
> unknown chapter count bc i just assume this will be a place to dumb drabbles of this terrible terrible foursome

It's not that Quentin is useless, per se. It's just that once he comes, he goes a little loopy, forgets that they're supposed to be doing all of this for Peter and the youngest is the main issue of concern, forgets that Wade should be wiping down Peter's thighs and petting his hair instead of smacking Quentin in the dick and trying to roll him off the bed and into the shower. 

Peter doesn't really mind. He's still coming down from the mind-blowing high of an orgasm, his whole body loose and sated. He's flat on his back, head pillowed on Eddie's firm bicep, still blinking the haze from his eyes. Eddie is watching Wade shout at Quentin with a lazy expression, his breathing even against Peter's shoulder, and Peter thinks he can feel something- Venom, probably- gently stroking down his flank. All in all, he's actually quite comfortable, although his stomach and thighs are feeling very sticky and the come on them is getting tacky and should probably be wiped soon. 

"You come drunk bitch," Wade is grumbling, trying his best to roll Quentin over so he wasn't squishing Peter but not falling off the bed, too. Quentin laughs stupidly, and it's probably the only time outside of sex he lets Wade manhandle him and call him names. "Make yourself useful and go get a towel, or wipe your face, you look dumb."

He does look a little dumb. He had fucked Peter into a stupor and only stopped because Wade had wanted Peter to come while riding him instead. Quentin ended up on his back beside Peter, with Eddie looming over him, Venom's long, slippery black tentacles sliding over his cock until he came. There were trails of what looked like slime all over Quentin's skin, but Peter can't really be sure. None of them really know what Venom secretes, because the symbiote only does it when he feels like it. 

"My calves hurt," Peter murmurs out loud, an afterthought as he remembered Quentin hitching his thighs against his chest and folding him in half. The three men never ceased to use Peter's extraordinary flexibility to their advantage, but Quentin really liked to push his luck the most. 

Wade is immediately abandoning Quentin, instead pressing soothing, warm hands against the sore flesh of Peter's calves. "Do you need an ice pack, baby? How badly does it hurt?" 

Peter experimentally points his toes and flexes his foot, letting the muscle strain. He winces a little, and Wade catches it, but Peter mumbles, "Not bad. Just cramping."

Beside him, Eddie reaches up to push Peter's hair away from his forehead, cooling and gentle. "Quentin needs to be more careful with him," He mutters in his deep, quiet voice.

"He liiiiked it," Quentin sings beside them, shuffling closer and trying to curl around Peter like a koala. Wade hits Quentin in the face with a pillow, effectively sending him to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs. "I fuck him best!"

"Whatever helps you sleep," Wade grunts as he hauls himself off the bed as well, pausing only to press a chaste kiss to Peter's cheek. "We'll be right back, baby."

The two men disappear into the bathroom, no doubt to collect towels and wipes for Peter. Said boy sighs in content, turning onto his side so he can bury his face in Eddie's neck. Eddie was the calmest of the three, always quiet and gentle, only ever getting rough with the other men but never with Peter. It's a nice thing to bring him back to reality after he's come, keep him grounded with a heavy hand low on his back.

_**Eddie's heart rate has doubled, **_Venom announces suddenly, and Eddie jerks like he's been burned.

Peter laughs quietly into Eddie's throat. "I'm flattered."

"Fuck you, V," Eddie grumbles, wrapping his arms more securely around Peter to hold him close. Against Eddie's chest, Peter feels a distinct rumbling sensation that could only be the symbiote's amusement.

Said symbiote slips out of Eddie's fingers, chilling and raising goosebumps up Peter's arms as Venom travels up his spine. He rests on Peter's shoulders, draping himself over them like a shawl, and Peter scrunches up his nose when he feels something slimy lick at his cheek, although his heart is strangely fond of the puddle of alien goo cradling him like a blanket. 

There's noise from the bathroom and Wade comes out first, with a wet washcloth in hand and a soft towel over his shoulder. He looks tired, and rightfully so, seeing as the four of them were at it for quite a few hours, but he always puts Peter first when it's all of them. He taps Peter gently on the hip, Eddie letting go of him so Peter can roll onto his back and open his thighs for Wade. Venom moves along with him, sliding over his shoulders and chest, down his forearm and wrist and interlocking between his fingers. 

As Wade so very gently wipes him down, Peter's heart balloons with a fierce affection, and he makes a high noise in his throat, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" Wade asks, hands pressing imploringly at his hips, worry in his voice. Eddie's hand lands on Peter's stomach, rubs circles there soothingly.

"Nothing," Peter whispers, afraid if he tries to speak up his voice will break around the lump in his throat. "I love you."

He can feel Eddie lean in to press a kiss to his shoulder, and Wade's fingers curl lovingly around his hip bones. He kisses the inside of Peter's knee, and somewhere near the pulse point on his wrist, Venom makes a distinct clicking noise. 

The bed dips a moment later, and Peter's arm is being tugged gently from his face only to find Quentin looking down at him with a dumb, lovestruck sort of gaze. Peter laughs, because it's very like the man to make Peter laugh at serious moments, and leans up to kiss him.

The towel Wade uses to pat Peter down is soft and warm, and as soon as he finishes Venom is wrapping around Peter's waist protectively, traveling down mid thigh until Peter's wearing him like a pair of boxers. Quentin laughs, and Wade raises an eyebrow at the symbiote but doesn't comment.

It takes a bit more maneuvering for them all to fit in the bed comfortably, but Wade had bought a ridiculously large mattress just for this, so it ends up being easy and natural. Peter is curled in Wade's arms tonight, because most nights he feels safest there, and he knows Wade can't sleep as well without holding him. Quentin spoons him from behind, big arms hooked over Peter and resting on Wade's side, and behind him, Eddie stretches out, his arm pillowed beneath Quentin's head. Once again, Peter is quite comfortable, and his heart is stupidly full.

"You're wrong, you know," Peter mumbles as he drifts on the edge of unconsciousness, feeling safe and warm and so very, very in love. 

"Hm?" Quentin hums, Wade making a noncommittal noise in reply as well. 

"Venom fucks me best."

Quentin pinches Peter's side, and somewhere near his pelvis, Venom purrs with content. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i wrote this because i'm sick fuck you how dare you assume that even though it's true

Peter tries his best to stay healthy. He _does, _okay, it's just... difficult when he's got so much going on. He goes to university and works part-time and patrols almost every other night (it used to be every night, until he almost passed out from exhaustion one night and Wade firmly put his foot down on that). He's never really eaten a lot of junk food, and only developed a sweet tooth when he met Wade. Eddie, despite having an alien inside him that craves chocolate more nights than most, had a surprisingly healthy palette, and both he and Wade could cook like a motherfucker. Quentin eats whatever is placed in front of him, disregarding taste, texture, smell, or even allergies he might have to it.

So, needless to say, Peter eats healthily, stays in shape from patrolling, and gets a pretty good brain workout from his classes, thank you very much.

But stress doesn't really give a shit how healthy Peter should be; once his body finally takes a moment to assess how much he's been putting it through the past two months or so, it decides to go into panic mode within twenty-four hours. Peter goes to sleep feeling like he could do another full day of patrols, and he wakes up feeling like he's just been hit by a bus and ripped from a nine month coma.

His head is heavy and pulsing with a headache, and the moment he opens his eyes he feels dizzy from the sunlight creeping past the curtains. His throat, raw and scratchy, feels painful when he breathes, and body aches all over, heavy and weighed down.

To his left, Eddie sleeps, breathing evenly. It was Friday, which meant Peter didn't have class, and Eddie didn't have work. Wade had disappeared on Wednesday for a job with promises of returning by the weekend, and Quentin had probably gotten up early to do... whatever it is he did during the day.

Peter gasps around his sore throat, trying to breath evenly when his sinuses were so congested. Weakly, he pats Eddie's shoulder, mumbling a barely comprehensible, _"Eddie."_

Eddie doesn't stir, and Peter tries again, but his voice is barely coming out coherent, let alone strong enough to wake the other man up. He tries to slap at his shoulder again, but he feels too weak and stiff-limbed to put any force behind it.

Finally, Peter tries his best to clear his throat, wincing when it backfires and makes the ache worse. "Venom," He grumbles, letting out a weak cough and closing his eyes again. "V, come _on,_ wake up."

Peter hears nothing for a few seconds, but when he squints open his eyes again Venom's materialized from Eddie's shoulder, floating lazily a few inches from Peter's face. _**"Peter."**_

"Can you-" He cuts himself off as he chokes through another bout of coughing, and Venom waits patiently for him to settle, big, milky eyes blank. "Can you tell me if I have a fever?"

Venom hums, and a moment later he's moving forward, laying himself carefully across Peter's forehead with all the gentleness of a mother caring for her young. After a minute, he says, **_"Your body temperature is currently at one hundred and one point three degrees, fahrenheit." _**

Peter groans miserably, and beside him, Eddie finally shifts, stirring out of his sleep. 

_**"Eddie," **_Venom begins happily, like he does every morning when Eddie wakes up. He slinks back into Eddie's skin, disappearing without a trace, and Peter just knows that if Venom could bear hug Eddie's organs, he absolutely would. _**"Good morning, Eddie. The young one is ill."**_

"What?" Eddie grumbles into his pillow, voice rough with sleep.

_**"Peter," **_Venom's disembodied voice clarifies. _**"Peter is ill. His body is overheating."**_

Eddie lurches up, eyes snapping open, and whips his head around so fast Peter is surprised he doesn't hear his neck crack. "You're sick?"

Peter nods, letting out the most pathetic noise. He hates being sick, and he hates how useless it makes him feel. 

"Oh, no, love," Eddie's voice slides into a gentle one he reserves solely for Peter and Venom, and Peter's heart skips a beat, which makes him cough vehemently. Eddie places the back of his hand on Peter's forehead. "You're burning up. Shit. Let me go see if we have something for you."

Eddie gets up out of bed, the frame squeaking in protest, and Peter squeezes his eyes shut again. He wishes they were all here to take care of him, but that was too selfish a thought, so he keeps silent.

Eddie returns a few minutes later with a small capful of cough medicine, and he helps Peter sit up to swallow it all and gives him a glass of water to wash it down. Peter makes an unhappy face at the bitter taste, and he can see Eddie hiding his smile as he tucks Peter back into bed. 

"Where's Quentin?" Peter mumbles, before his stupid brain to mouth filter can catch up, and he wishes he would just shut up sometimes.

"I'll give him a call," Eddie murmurs. He smooths his hand over Peter's chest, a comforting gesture, and Peter can feel his eyes closing again. "I'm sure he's close. He'll be back before you wake up."

Peter lets out another pitiful noise, and then, "Wade?"

Eddie hesitates, and Peter can sense it without opening his eyes. "I'll... try to call him, too."

_Try _being the key word. Wade used burner phones more often than not, and when he was away for more than two days it was almost impossible to contact him. Peter knew that. Eddie knew that. Still, Peter's stupid brain wishes.

"'Kay," Peter breathes out, and with that, he falls unconscious.

Peter drifts, and sleeps.

When he wakes up, it's very briefly, and it's to find Quentin stroking his hair softly, looking down at him with a concerned expression. He can smell chicken soup- it's Wade's recipe, he knows it just by scent, but if Wade were here he'd be in Quentin's place instead. Peter blinks blearily at Quentin, mouth dry and feeling like it's filled with cotton.

"Hey, sweetheart," Quentin smiles brilliantly at him, and for a moment it blinds Peter. "How ya feeling?" 

Peter lets out a noise that sounds like a hum and a groan mixed into one. Quentin chuckles, and pushes Peter's hair back from his forehead, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Go back to sleep, angel."

Peter does.

Peter drifts, and sleeps.

He's woken again so Eddie can spoon feed him chicken soup and give him more medicine, and he can hear Quentin arguing with someone on the phone in the kitchen through the wall. He's clearly trying to be quiet, so Peter's hypersensitive hearing doesn't pick up on it, but Peter can hear it all the same the more frustrated Quentin gets.

"Listen, _asshole, _I just need Wade's new number. Don't be fucking stupid, you know who I am. Why the fuck would I do that? This is an _emergency. _Fine. Whatever. Fuck you. When you see Wade, tell him to come home asap. And I mean as _soon _as you seen him, got it?"

Peter wants to ask Eddie who Quentin is talking to, and where Wade is, but Venom is making a gentle purring noise and settling around Peter's stomach like a cat, and Peter falls back asleep.

Peter drifts, and sleeps.

He wakes up in a coughing fit in the middle of the night, sandwiched between Quentin and Eddie, and the first thing he does once he's finished is shove at them, grumbling, "No, no, no," deliriously. 

Quentin rolls right off the bed from the strength of Peter's push, and Eddie scrambles to calm Peter down, shushing him gently.

"You can't sleep with me," Peter croaks out. His vision adjusts to the darkness, and he can see the distress written all over Eddie's face, and what part of Quentin's he can see peeking up from the floor. "You'll both get sick, too." 

"Peter-" Eddie begins, looking conflicted, but Peter stubbornly shakes his head.

"Those are the rules," He whispers. They weren't actually rules. Whenever one of them got sick, Wade was always the one to care for them, and cuddle them, and generally coddle them back to health, because Wade couldn't get sick. And Wade fit the role of nurturer so perfectly.

Where was Wade? Why wasn't he here?

Quentin opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but then Peter gives him a teary eyed, desperate look, and mumbles, "I don't want you to get sick."

He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at them, and after a few moments of shuffling and the creaking of the bed frame, he hears footsteps leaving the bedroom.

He falls asleep a few minutes later, eyes wet and still wondering where Wade was.

Peter drifts, and he wakes up to familiar arms wrapping around him and gently pulling him close.

"Baby boy," Wade whispers into his hair, and Peter latches onto Wade like a tick, burying his face in the man's neck and taking big, gasping lungfuls of air like he was saved from drowning. His heart rate skyrockets, and he can feel his fingers trembling.

"Wade," He whimpers out, muffled into Wade's neck, and the older man lets out a heavy sigh.

"Baby boy, you were all alone in here waiting for me?" Wade asks, hand rubbing gentle circles between Peter's shoulder blades. "Why didn't you let Quentin or Eddie look after you?"

Peter shakes his head, locking his arms as tightly as he can around Wade. "Wanted you."

Wade laughs softly. "That's great, baby, but I wasn't home. Shit, I literally just walked through the door and Quentin almost slapped the shit out of me before I could say hello," He pats Peter gently on the shoulder, pulls back so he can look Peter in the eye. In the dark, Peter can just make out the outline of Wade's face, the glitter of his eyes and the sharp angles of his body. "How're you feeling?"

"Terrible," Peter responds immediately, although that isn't true. His headache was slightly alleviated and the congestion in his sinuses felt like it was clearing up. "I thought you were dead."

He says it so suddenly that it surprises even him. The shock of his statement must show on his face, because Wade looks like he wants to laugh, although from what Peter can see, he looks just as startled as Peter feels.

"I can't die, baby boy. You know that," He says it softly, like it might not be true even though Peter knows it is.

"Eddie tried to call you," Peter gets out, and suddenly it's like his brain to mouth filter has never existed in the first place, words tumbling out as they please. "Quentin tried to get your number, too. I didn't want to get them sick, I told them to leave me alone." 

Wade frowns, lips curling downwards as something appears to dawn on him. "How long have you been like this, Peter?"

Peter processes it slowly, tries to remember the days and glances at the clock on the nightstand. Was it Sunday already? "Two days."

There's a moment where Wade blinks at him, and then a second later he's being crushed against Wade's chest.

"Shit, _fuck," _ Wade's voice sounds strained, now, and Peter feels worry flood through him at the sound. "I'm so sorry, baby, I had no idea. The stupid phone Weasel gave me broke on Thursday, I figured I'd be fine without one until I came back."

Peter was going to murder Weasel for cutting corners on something as precious as a phone.

"You were all alone," Wade continues. "Oh, my poor baby, you must've been so _lonely."_

Peter nods against Wade's chest. He _was _lonely.

"'S okay," Peter mumbles. "You're here now," He presses a kiss above Wade's heart, and it's a little awkward because Wade was still wearing his suit, and it tasted kind of metallic, like blood or gunpower, but it's the thought that counts, right? "I love you."

"I love you too, Peter," Wade breathes into his hair, and Peter smiles stupidly. Through the wall, he can hear Quentin and Eddie arguing about what sounds suspiciously like Wade's chicken soup recipe.

Peter drifts, and sleeps. 

**Author's Note:**

> please put me in the dumpster


End file.
